I look to the outer of everywhere,
as in an empty mirror.
You are not there.

I ask the wind has it seen you.
In rustling it leads me on,
but keeps its secret.

Resignedly,
pausing for a moment,
I turn back to my other
occupations,

thinking how I miss
the words of you …

in them is your reflection.

02/28/2002

Posted on 02/27/2002
Copyright © 2025 Audrey M Scott